


Mistakes Were Made

by Lavavulture



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drugged Sex, Emotional Manipulation, Inappropriate Instructional Techniques, M/M, Memory Magic, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Religious Guilt, Rimming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-02 05:23:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8652589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavavulture/pseuds/Lavavulture
Summary: Wherein Percival Graves was taking an ill-advised fall for his master Grindelwald and Credence Barebone wasn't quite as dead as everybody thought.  One unexpected prison break later and Graves starts out on a journey that he only thinks he can control.





	1. Pride Goeth Before Destruction

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure that the original Percival Graves was a real great guy but in this story he's a total manipulative jackass working for Grindelwald, who definitely does not look like a bizarre Johnny Depp-clown. Please enjoy if that's your wish.

In retrospect, Percival Graves thought as he stared at the blank walls of his prison, disguising himself as Gellert Grindelwald once that snoopy British zookeeper started looking at him sideways and muttering wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had.

It had seemed like a great idea at the time. He’d had vague thoughts that Grindelwald would be pleased to have attention away from him for a few months and he’d planned on being able to finagle an escape and then the miraculous rescue of the “real” Percival Graves, Polyjuiced out of his mind and completely innocent of all wrongdoing.

But his subterfuge had been discovered almost immediately, thanks to Tina Goldstein’s meddlesome little sister—how was he to know that the girl was a damned Legilimens—and now he was in such deep isolation that he didn’t think he’d ever be able to find a way out of it. 

Definitely not one of his better ideas.

Of course he’d been full of bad ideas lately. For days he’d been reviewing the biggest mistake he’d made recently, reviewing and rewinding the event in his mind until he was sick of it.

Credence Barebone. He’d had him. He’d had him curled up in the palm of his hand and in one stupid, hasty moment he’d ruined everything with an impatient slap. And not content just to hit him—the poor battered fool might still have forgiven him that—he’d fully rejected him for a slip of a No-Maj girl, useless to anyone.

It was maddening. All that time, all that work. He’d had the Obscurial the entire time, tucked up under his arms and all-too willing to betray everything he held dear for him, and he’d called him a Squib. An Obscurial so powerful that he’d managed to grow into young manhood with that kind of magic burning in him and instead of bringing him to Grindelwald as a prize, Graves had watched him explode into a million worthless pieces.

“Damn,” Graves told the wall. It was enough to drive a man mad. 

And there would be no help from Grindelwald now. Grindelwald had no time for what he called American hastiness and bravado. He hadn’t been fully convinced of Percival’s plan to begin with and now it was too clear why.

“Time for supper, _Grindelwald_ ,” the guard said outside of his door and laughed. Graves knew the man. He’d promoted the bastard years ago. To think that now he’d have to sit there and listen to the idiot mock him was untenable.

The door opened behind him and Graves didn’t turn his head around, even as the isolation spell froze his arms and legs in place. He continued to stare at the blank white wall as the guard entered the room, whistling contentedly.

A dark speck slid up the wall and Graves watched it. This would be his only entertainment today. It was a tiny dark tendril of something—dirt probably but that was sloppy of the guard to bring it in—that was soon joined by several more long dark marks against the white wall as the guard set down his meal on the floor. 

It was at that moment that Graves realized that he could move his limbs. The spell that should have kept him frozen and safe was broken, and he was on his feet before he could think. He moved like lightning, shoving the guard against the wall near the dark specks, growing and crawling up the stone.

“You see that too, don’t you?” Graves asked the guard, whose wide-open mouth as they both stared at the wall was the only answer he needed. Graves grinned and slammed the guard’s head against the wall until he collapsed in a bloody heap. “Good. I’d hate to think that I really was going crazy.” 

He grabbed the guard’s wand out of his limp fingers and murmured a quick spell to switch their clothes. The guard didn’t much resemble him in the face but their bodies were similar enough that he could flip him face-down on the cot and assume that nobody would look too closely for a few hours.

Graves reached out and touched the black tendrils on the wall. There were so many now that they had a weight under his fingers, warm and throbbing with magic. It sparked hope in his chest.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Perhaps he hadn’t made such an irrevocable mistake after all.

 

Anyone other than Percival Graves would have been captured immediately but this was his domain. He’d trained most of the men and women that worked the prison and he knew all the secrets. 

Especially the ones he made himself. Even President Picquery didn’t know about all of his tunnels underneath the complex, little magical portals he’d installed years ago when he’d first heard Grindelwald’s message from the man’s own brilliant mouth.

Graves stopped by one portal and breathed out slow and heavy, listening above him to the soft patter of feet. Everything still sounded normal so far. They hadn’t discovered his escape. He still had a little time before he went through.

Graves set his hand on top of the portal where a little bowl of Floo powder sat and closed his eyes hard before opening them again. The dark specks had followed him and continued to multiply until now they surrounded him like an ominous cloud. He wondered if he should feel afraid. But even though he’d come face to face with this power in all its full rage, he refused to greet it with anything other than calm.

“Credence, my boy,” Graves said, gentle as to a frightened animal. “You’ve saved me.”

The dark cloud seemed to quiver in the air, all its malevolent warning turned to hesitance at his warm tone. Graves reached his hand out towards the thickest area of the mass.

“Come now. Let me see you. Let me see the face of my savior.”

The mass still hesitated but Graves could be patient for a few moments longer. He went as far as to touch against the dark, swirling energy, letting his fingers stroke around the sparking power. It felt like touching a storm.

“I thought they’d killed you,” Graves said and didn’t have to pretend to sound relieved at being proven wrong. He had a second chance to show Grindelwald that he was worthy to serve his cause.

The mass fell to the ground in a heavy clump and all the errant surrounding tendrils began bleeding back into it. Soon the shape began to resemble something vaguely human and the mass seemed to throb once—in pain or in exertion, Graves didn’t know—until finally it was a man bent on the floor, gasping for breath. Graves waited.

Credence lifted his head up, dark eyes as baleful as they were hesitant. Graves knew them well. Credence Barebone was a man with a roaring beast inside of him, struggling to get out even as it begged to be tamed.

“They did kill me,” Credence said.

 

Credence was quiet for some time after that, clearly exhausted and wary of him. Graves led him through the portal to its Canadian twin on the other side, in a long abandoned security warehouse just over the No-Maj border. He kept up a steady stream of light chatter, no questions and nothing that might make Credence think about what had happened. Instead he told him about the history of the magical town they were headed towards and of the cabin deep in the forest that his extended family owned.

“My mother was born just outside of Winnepeg. She met my father at Ilvermorny.” Graves lowered his voice as he apparated them just outside of the town’s wand shop. The guard’s wand was jumpy and clumsy in his hands. He’d have to replace it. And Credence would need one, of course. Graves paused to cleave through the magical locks on the shop’s door. He held the door open for Credence, who scurried through after a moment’s hesitation.

Credence stopped as soon as he entered the shop, head lifted just enough to stare at the boxes of wands surrounding them.

“Ilvermorny is where you would have gone, of course. In Massachusetts. It’s the finest wizarding school in the world. Nevermind what idiots say about Hogwarts.” Graves shut the door behind them and sealed it back up with an alarm spell. He crossed the thin rope sectioning off the wands from the browsing public and began opening boxes, holding and hefting the wands quickly. This wasn’t the momentous ceremony that it should be for a wizard but Credence would have to make do. There were many wizarding experiences he would just never have. Graves would give him new experiences to make up for his loss. 

“What’s Hogwarts?” Credence asked. It was the first thing he’d said in the past hour and he was saying it more to the growing pile of wands on the floor but Grave felt heartened by his curiosity.

“One of the wizarding schools in Europe. Hogwarts is supposed to be the best. Although Durmstrang sounds superior, if you ask me. Much more sensible ideas about the world.” Graves paused as his fingers clasped around a wand that seemed to hum under his fingers. It didn’t feel quite as comfortable in his hand as his old wand but he thought that it would work. He pointed it towards the middle of the floor and nodded to Credence. “Stand back.”

There was again that slight hesitation before Credence obediently took a step back, his eyes focused on the tip of Graves’s new wand.

“Accio, wand,” Graves said and the wand he was pointing at flew instantly into his left hand. He nodded in satisfaction and then gestured to Credence. “Come and pick out a wand.”

Credence took the one out of his left hand gingerly, staring at it as though it were a loaded gun. He held it limply, far too high up on the handle, and Graves smothered a sigh.

“You have to hold it right or your movement won’t be fluid. Here, like this.” Graves took Credence’s hand in his own and adjusted his grip. Credence went stiff at his touch but allowed him to move his fingers down into the correct position. Graves led him through a smooth, slight gesture. “Do you feel anything?”

“What should I feel?” Credence stared at him through the corners of nervous eyes and Graves shook his head.

“You’ll know it if it feels right. Keep trying.”

Graves left Credence to it as he pulled out a small tourist’s map of the shops in town. He didn’t remember the bookstore having much in way of an instructional collection but he’d have to make do. It had been some time since he’d been in school but thankfully he’d been a good student. He could teach Credence the basics without any help. The supplies would be more important. He’d been just barely above average in potions but he knew that Grindelwald put a lot of stock in them. He wanted Grindelwald to be impressed when he presented Barebone to him.

Graves watched Credence shift through the wands in a slow, tired way and he began to plan out the next few months. He’d have to teach Credence as much as he could quickly, enough that when he took him to Grindelwald, he wouldn’t be disappointed by his lack of skill. His innate power would be obvious now—he practically shone with it—but Grindelwald wouldn’t want to waste time teaching even a gifted Obscurial how to perform simple magic. 

So they’d learn the basics in the next few months and then he’d make contact with Grindelwald to procure safe passage to wherever he was now. It would be hard work, especially if Credence never lost his skittish hesitancy, but Graves was confident in his ability to pull what he wanted from the man.

Suddenly a sharp blast of wind knocked everything off of the tables and shelves as Credence waved a thin, light-colored wand around. He froze and his mouth opened ever so slightly in surprise.

“Looks like you found it.” Graves smiled and pointed to the door. “Let’s go. We have a lot more ground to cover tonight.” 

 

“That’s a sin,” Credence said, looking away from the picture in the book that had opened when Graves had pulled it off the shelf to get at another one.

Graves glanced down at the picture of two young witches kissing in a meadow and snorted.

“Did your _ma_ tell you that?” Graves infused the word with disgust as he flipped casually through the pages of the book, showing Credence the moving images. “No-Maj are astounding in their petty ignorance. All that matters is magic. Who has it and who doesn’t.”

“And I have it? Magic?” Credence looked at him under his lowered head and Graves nearly shook the cringing creature.

Instead he cupped Credence’s face between his hands. Credence shrank back but the wall trapped him between it and Graves, who pressed in as close as he could while cursing the ground he’d lost thanks to his moment of misguided honesty. Credence used to be eager liquid in his hands. Now he was back to being as nervous as a whipped dog.

“You have tremendous power,” Graves said and caressed the space beneath Credence’s ear with his thumb. Credence was trembling so hard that Graves couldn’t tell if he responded to the caress. But he would. Very soon. Graves was certain of that. “You have nothing to fear from any of their kind again.” 

Credence swallowed, his Adam’s apple moving spasmodically in his thin throat. But there was something dark and cold lurking at the edges of his eyes, something that hadn’t been there before.

“Their kind wasn’t what killed me. That was…our kind.”

And Graves let the smile cross his lips. This script couldn’t have gone better if he’d written it. He had him now. Credence had no one to turn to, no rock on which to anchor his wild power. Save him.

“Yes. Our kind. They were driven by that insane desire to protect our _precious_ secrecy. But I was foolish too. I didn’t see how special you are. You showed me my error. So spectacularly.” Graves risked enough to caress the edge of Credence’s bottom lip and then he did respond—the slightest gasp but it was enough for now. Grave leaned closer. “We’ll show them the truth, Credence. Together we’ll make them appreciate your value.”

He didn’t kiss him. He didn’t dare yet. But the slight nod that Credence gave him felt as sweet as any stolen kiss.

 

“It’s bigger inside,” Credence said in shock, looking around the inside of the cabin.

Graves wondered how he could still be so surprised at the slightest magic and he had to push away his growing irritation. He was just tired. And it wasn’t Credence’s fault that he’d reached adulthood as ignorant in the ways of the wizarding world as a newborn babe. It was the No-Maj’s fault. They had kept such an incredible power suffocated like a moth in a jar. 

“Yes,” Graves said lightly and pulled off the guard’s coat. He allowed a magical current to take it but waved it towards the trash when it tried to take it to the closet. He’d be happy to get out these cheap clothes and back into his own. “It’s a simple spatial magic. Absolutely necessary in the cities, of course, but my grandfather loved this land. He didn’t want to cut down any more trees than he had to.”

“How big is it?” Credence asked as he stared down one long hallway.

Graves sucked in a deep breath and thought. “Four stories. Not sure how many rooms. My grandmother kept adding on when she was bored of a room. It has a nice, big training room. That’ll come in handy when we begin your lessons.”

“You’re really going to teach me magic?” Credence started when the current tugged on his own coat. He wrapped his arms around himself and stared around him with wild eyes.

Graves held his hand up and the current dissipated immediately. He went over to Credence and carefully removed his coat, letting his hands ghost over his thin arms. He dropped his mouth down to his ear, “Of course I’ll teach you magic. I’ll teach you anything you want to know.”

Credence shivered hard and Graves wondered if he even needed the liquid he’d picked up at the supply shop. Credence was warming back up to him remarkably fast given how angry he’d been. He truly had no sense of self-preservation. 

That was fine. That was more than fine. Graves would be content to be everything to him, teacher and master and more.

“Let’s eat. And then go to bed. We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow,” Graves did let his lips touch lightly on the shell of Credence’s ear before he pulled away and he felt a deep, smug sense of satisfaction when Credence leaned towards him in the gap.

 

In the end, he did put the liquid in Credence’s drink, not because he thought he absolutely needed it but because it would relax him enough to dull any potential questions. Wisdom would dictate that he give Credence some space, at least until after he questioned him more about how he’d managed to survive and why he’d immediately come for him instead of approaching lovely, friendly Tina Goldstein.

But his past mistakes were crowding around in Graves’s head and he didn’t want to risk giving Credence a night alone in one of the several rooms in the cabin. He wanted to keep his eye on him, to know that he wasn’t going to disappear in a puff of magical smoke. 

And if that meant that he got to keep other parts on him? So much the better. Surely Graves had earned a little bit of pleasure after the miserable week he’d had.

As he led Credence towards his old summer bedroom, Graves felt nearly charmed by how he leaned against him, his earlier hesitation stripped away with the diluted potion he’d given him. It was a modified version of the love potion that young witches and wizards were always trying to slip each other. This version was rather more used by older, more adventurous practitioners of potion-making. He hadn’t given him enough to blur his memories the next day but it was enough to lower his inhibitions to a manageable level.

“I used to spend every summer here when I was a child,” Graves said as he shut the door to his bedroom behind him. 

Credence stumbled a few feet ahead of him, a light flush resting on his high cheekbones as he examined the large space. His eyes lit briefly on the bed before skittering away and Graves wondered how ignorant he really was to what was about to happen.

“It’s bigger than my house,” Credence said and then lowered his head, perhaps remembering that he had demolished his home, along with his mother and other sister.

Graves laughed lightly and then leaned his back against the door, making a show of looking Credence up and down. Credence curved in on himself at the attention and it made Graves smile wider. This would be far more than a bit of pleasure.

“Come here, my boy,” Graves murmured, his voice low. “I still don’t trust my eyes that you’re safe and whole. I want you in my arms as proof.”

Credence swallowed hard and Graves thought for a moment that he would refuse. But instead he came right to him, his arms limp at his sides as Graves took him in a tight embrace. He simply held him close until finally Credence raised his hands up and clasped them to Graves’s back, melting into him. 

He definitely hadn't needed the potion. Credence may have been angry with him, he may not completely trust him anymore, but his flesh was still starved for his touch. His whole body was clearly aching with the need to be held. Graves would give him that and so much more. So much that he would never be able to hold it all in, so much that he would spend his life chasing after every small morsel of affection.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Graves said and pressed his mouth to Credence’s neck. “All for my own blind stupidity. Will you ever forgive me?”

“I-I don’t,” Credence stammered, his fingers curling into Graves’s shirt.

“Shhhh.” Graves moved his lips down Credence’s trembling skin. He reached for the buttons of his shirt and began opening them with slow, sensual precision. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. Let me try to make it up to you.”

 

Credence nearly naked on his bed was a prettier sight than he’d expected. The younger man had a lean body, thin and faintly covered in old scars, but his legs were long and his torso had the sort of musculature of someone who had been hard-pressed into exhausting labor for years. 

And he had an interesting face when he was deep in pleasure, his eyes even darker and focused on Graves as he moved his lips down his neck, down over his collarbone, down and down until he reached his boxers. Those dark eyes closed as Credence moaned at the mouth touching him through the thin fabric.

“Wait,” Credence said breathlessly as Graves slid his fingers under the waistband of the boxers. Graves did pause, confident that he wouldn’t have to do much to cajole Credence into this, not as hard as he was under him. Credence licked his lips, a nervous gesture but it made Graves throb once pleasantly, and his eyes skittered up Graves’s raised body. “You’re still dressed.”

It was better than he could have hoped for. Graves grinned and pulled Credence’s hands up to his chest. “Help me with that, then.”

Credence did, although his fingers shook badly the entire time. When he reached his belt, Credence’s hands were so unsteady that Graves gently pushed his fumbling fingers away in order to remove it himself. He waited until he could see Credence holding his breath in anticipation before he pushed his slacks down, taking his boxers with them. 

“Oh!” Credence fell back onto the bed, his chest rising and falling so frantically that Graves was worried he might asphyxiate himself—which would be a tragic end to the night. “I-I don’t think that we should…I don’t-don’t know what…”

“It’s all right,” Graves said, sliding his hand down to his own cock, stroking it until he was fully erect. He sent his other hand down into Credence’s lap, fondling him in time with his strokes. Credence cried out, fitful and almost pained, writhing on the bed as though he’d never felt anything like that before. As Graves considered it, he thought it likely that he hadn’t. The dearly departed Mrs. Barebone probably didn’t approve of self-pleasure. 

Graves caressed them both until Credence’s breath began to take on a panicked note and then he paused, moving his hand to his hip and pulling. “Turn around. Get on your hands and knees.”

Credence hesitated for so long that Graves thought that he would have to move him himself but eventually he shifted over on shaking legs and rose up onto his hands and knees. Graves hooked his fingers back under his boxers and pulled them down over his ass. It was, Graves thought in satisfaction, a very tempting ass, round and yielding to his touch. 

Credence gasped out sharply as he ran his hands over the soft flesh and he leaned over him, moving his hand over to the other man’s waiting cock. He set his free hand down on the bed over Credence’s hand and pressed his cock to his ass, rubbing it against him as he stroked his slick erection.

“Aren’t you a pretty thing,” Graves said and pressed his thumb over the slit in Credence’s cock, rubbing and then releasing to slide back down to the base. He rubbed his cock against him and thought about how nice it would be to slide inside his tight virgin hole. 

The thought was nearly enough to make him shove Credence’s legs apart and force his way in but that would be entirely too hasty. He wasn’t going to make any of those sorts of mistakes with him again. He would be patient and thorough. He listened to Credence gasp and cry in pleasure until the sound reached a fever pitch.

“It’s all right. Come for me. I have you right here,” Graves murmured soothingly and stroked until Credence jerked his hips and came thickly over his fingers, his moans stacked on top of each other and muffled by his clenching teeth. “That’s beautiful, that’s perfect.”

He held Credence until he stopped his furious shaking and began to press his back against his chest, searching for his touch. His needy subservience was almost Graves’s undoing but he schooled himself firmly. The potion he’d given Credence would keep his nerves tight and expectant for hours. He intended on taking full advantage.

He slid his fingers over to Credence’s ass, sliding down as he whispered a quiet spell. He pushed inside his suddenly slickened hole and Credence started at the sensation. 

“Relax,” Graves said and worked his fingers in and around, stroking Credence on the inside until he pressed against the slight bump that made him twitch and gasp. “How does that feel? Too much?”

“I don’t know,” Credence whispered but his knees were sliding further apart with every stroke. 

“It’ll feel wonderful. Trust me,” Graves said and pulled his fingers out, replacing them with the thick head of his cock. “You’ll feel some pressure but if you stay relaxed for me, I promise that it won’t hurt.”

Credence breathed out slowly as he pushed inside but he didn’t tense or tighten around him. It was just as well, he was already so tight that Graves felt a low moan escape from his throat as Credence involuntarily squeezed around his cock. Credence let out a choked matching cry as he pushed steadily forward, moving until his balls hit the soft backs of Credence’s thighs.

“Do you feel that?” Graves asked and leaned forward, taking Credence’s ear between his teeth, licking and sucking as he whispered, “I’m inside of you.”

And now that he was, he was never going to let him leave. Graves let a triumphant smile press around Credence’s ear before he began moving his hips, fucking into him with controlled force and reveling in his surprised moans. 

Finally, his plans were starting to come together. 

Grindelwald would be so proud.

With that thought Graves surrendered himself completely to his desire. There would be plenty of time in the coming months to mold and shape his Obscurial into a weapon for the cause. For tonight, his only thought was of enjoying him. He’d certainly earned that much.


	2. There Is Joy and Satisfaction of Spirit, Only In Getting Wisdom

Credence woke up slowly, cocooned in warm blankets on the softest bed he’d ever known. He felt sluggish and strange as he peered across the huge bed. Mr. Graves had held him close as he’d fallen into exhausted sleep but now he was nowhere to be seen.

Last night seemed like a mad dream. A wicked, luscious, sinful dream where he had moaned like the most wanton of whores as Mr. Graves had taken him again and again. He’d clung to him, lost in the heady sensations, and thought that he would break apart from pleasure.

He nearly had. Credence shifted his legs under the heavy blankets and winced at the ache that flared through his body. He set his gaze on the broken cabinet on the other side of the room and shuddered.

He had done that. With his mind. He had reached out in the throes of gasping, searing desire and twisted the solid oaken cabinet in half.

Mr. Graves had just chuckled when he looked back it, chuckled and then pulled Credence’s legs higher up his waist as he continued to move inside him.

“Enjoying yourself, my boy?” Mr. Graves had whispered in his ear and he had moaned out an affirmation as the swell began to rise in him again.

Credence swallowed hard. It hadn’t been a building this time. It hadn’t been a person. Perhaps he could learn to control the evil in him. Mr. Graves would show him how.

He slid his finger along his hot neck, touching the exquisitely sensitive places where Mr. Graves had licked and sucked and _bit_. The endless ache in him woke again. 

No one else would show him. He knew that with certainty. Any possibility of that had died when he had, only to rise from the foggy darkness still filled with that burning power, still desperately wicked. 

He was one of the Devil’s own, as surely as the Lord bid the sun to rise in the morning, but even other devils thought that he was an abomination. But not Mr. Graves. Mr. Graves might keep him, so long as he had magic, so long as he obeyed. So long as he was good for him and he would be. He wanted so deeply to be.

That thought pulled Credence from the bed, his legs protesting under him as he stood. There was a piece of parchment on the nightstand and as he began searching for his clothes, the parchment rose as well and began speaking in Mr. Graves’s voice.

“Good morning,” it said cheerfully, the words disappearing as soon as they were said. “I figured you needed your rest but starting tomorrow, you’ll wake when I do. You have so much to learn that we have no time to waste. I threw your clothes out.”

Credence paused. Could the parchment see him? Could Mr. Graves see him through this magic? The thought made him terribly aware of his nakedness and he pulled a blanket off the bed to wrap up in.

“They were a terrible mess. And not really worth saving. You’ll find a bath waiting for you in the other room and some clothes that I think will fit you. Come down to the dining room when you’re ready and we’ll go over your schedule.”

At that the parchment curled up neatly into itself and settled back onto the nightstand.

Credence wondered when surprise would turn into acceptance. Surely hellspawn shouldn’t be so easily startled by devilry.

 

The bath was one of the greatest pleasures he’d ever known in his life, warm and soothing along his sore muscles. Thinking on it all of the greatest pleasures he had known seemed to be happening in rapid succession and all involved Mr. Graves.

Credence examined his body as closely as he could bear it, reasoning that after engaging in so many acts of damning sodomy, he was adding little fuel to the fire to see the result.

There were several slight pink marks along his fishbelly white skin. Here was where Mr. Graves had nipped at his collarbone and laughed when he’d jumped. Here was where Mr. Graves had sucked a near-perfect circle from his stomach and he’d moaned in surprise at how good it felt. Here was where Mr. Graves had gripped his hip hard as he’d thrust inside and he had begged for more.

The marks didn’t hurt like his mother’s punishments but touching them even lightly stirred his hungry flesh. Mr. Graves had touched him there and there. Everywhere.

Credence bit his bottom lip hard. He was truly an insatiable slattern if he could still want more after spending so many times. He’d come more times last night than he had in the past two years combined, when he’d slipped furtive hands down under his covers after he'd hoped his mother and sisters were sleeping. 

He left the comforting warmth of the bath without touching himself further and dressed in the clothes that Mr. Graves had left out for him. They were a near perfect fit so he knew that they didn’t belong to Mr. Graves. He was larger, broad of shoulders and chest and…elsewhere.

Credence’s entire body throbbed with want and he fled the room, his face burning like hellfire.

 

Mr. Graves was down in the dining room, talking to various parchments floating around him. He waved them away when he saw Credence and stood, smiling broadly. He was dressed casually, his crisp white shirt pushed up to his elbows and the sight of his strong forearms made Credence terribly aware of what they had looked like surrounding him in the night.

“Finally you’re awake,” Mr. Graves said and came to him.

“I’m sorry I slept so long.” Credence wanted to lower his eyes to the ground but it was impossible to look away from Mr. Graves. He was like a painting or a statue that his mother bade him and his sisters not to look at when she spoke in the public spaces. He had anyway, out of the corners of his eyes and had always been caught in it.

“No need to apologize. It was my fault. Are you sore?” Mr. Graves asked, wrapping his hand around the nape of Credence’s neck and pulling him close, close enough to smell the musky scent of his cologne.

“A…a little,” Credence said, flushing furiously at his words even as he pressed his cheek briefly to Mr. Grave’s warm shoulder.

Mr. Graves licked his lips. “Show me. Take off your belt.”

Credence tensed in habitual panic and Graves stilled his fingers from stroking his neck. Before Mr. Graves could pull away, Credence forced out a rushed, “All right.”

Slipping his belt through the loops still made him shudder but when he was done, Mr. Graves kissed him on his cheek, lingering a moment before helping him out of his slacks.

Then Mr. Graves pushed him onto the table and Credence felt a deep thrill of shame as he lay back on it in only his shirt and boxers. As soon it was just his shirt as Mr. Graves pulled off his boxers, his fingers stroking along his thighs as he went. Credence shivered.

And then he gasped loudly in surprise as Mr. Graves suddenly pulled his feet onto the table, forcing his knees up and apart.

Credence began to protest—he was completely, shamefully open like this—but Mr. Graves shushed him in a gentle voice.

“None of that shyness now. You’ve got no reason to hide anything from me now.” Mr. Graves slid down then and Credence swallowed down another gasp as he felt probing fingers against his hole. “Especially not this little rosebud. It does look sore. I was too eager.”

And Credence knew that he was blushing bright red, horrified and sickly pleased at the idea that Mr. Graves might have been that overcome with desire for skinny, freakish him.

“It’s okay,” Credence mumbled, even as he threw his arm over his eyes.

“No,” Mr. Graves said sternly and Credence jerked at his tone. “I’ll make it up to you.”

In the first second Credence barely registered the slick, slight pressure touching against his sensitive flesh. But then the warm pleasure of it raced through him and he moaned in surprise. Mr. Graves was licking him. Licking him where his cock had been just hours ago.

“W-wait,” Credence moaned but Mr. Graves continued to lick and suck wetly at the skin around his hole, pausing only to give him one command.

“Concentrate on not breaking anything this time.”

 

In the end he didn’t break anything although he did set fire to the mass of parchment Mr. Graves had been working on. He’d been terrified that Mr. Graves would be angry with him but instead he’d laughed again and tucked him up under his arm in a fierce hug.

“You’re unbelievably powerful, my boy, there’s no reason to apologize for that. You’ll learn control.” Mr. Graves then shoved the largest of the books he had stacked up on the other side of the table into Credence’s hands. “We’ll start with a little history. Ease you into our world. Read until the book stops you and then move on to the other one.”

“Yes, Mr. Graves,” Credence said. He wasn’t sure that the heat would ever leave his cheeks or if he’d be able to concentrate for a second on words in a book when all he could think about was Mr. Graves’s tongue on him, _in him_.

“Call me Percival.” Mr. Graves chuckled a bit as Credence pressed his lips together. “At least think about calling me Percival when we’re here alone.”

He came close again then and stroked along the bottom of Credence’s lips, warm and teasing and perfect.

“Mr. Graves is such a formal thing to call me when I’ve been inside of you. Don’t you think?”

“Yes, Mr. Gra…Percival,” Credence said and the word felt like silk in his mouth, sumptuous and wrong.

“We’ll work on it. After you’re done with your reading, take the books up to the library.” Mr. Graves patted him lightly on the shoulder and nodded at the stack of books, which rose up to crowd closer to Credence on the table. “Second floor, three doors down. I’ll be in the garden for a bit collecting ingredients so we can work on potions this afternoon.” 

 

He didn’t think that he would be able to concentrate on reading but the books were fascinating, filled with outlandish stories and theories on magic. He didn’t know that witches had different theories about the best ways to perform magic. He read for hours until the last thin book squirmed its way out of his hands and shut itself up tight. 

The books then followed him up to the library, his favorite held close to his chest as he walked up the stairs. Once inside the library he stopped in the middle of the room, once again stunned by size of the rooms in the small, unremarkable cabin.

There were books everywhere. More books than he’d thought existed in the world, more books than it seemed possible that there should be. His mother had been a writer, of course, a vehicle for the Lord’s word but she didn’t approve of any other sort of writing. The Bible had been his only book ever since the day that his mother had taken him from the orphanage. And he’d read the Bible; front to back and back again, more eagerly than his sister Modesty and less for approval than his sister Chastity. He’d liked the stories.

He set the history book on a table and all the other books flew in to join it, piling up in the order they’d presented themselves to him that morning.

Credence looked around some more. In the back of the room was a large table with only a single book on it, chained down flat to the surface. The chained book was pitch-black and Credence wondered if that was the black book he was supposed to sign.

He would, of course. It would be foolish to balk at formalizing his damnation now, after he’d already committed so many unpardonable sins.

_Honor thy father and mother. Thou shalt not kill. Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live. Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination._

And so many more besides. He could recite them all, in order if anybody wanted but somehow he doubted Mr. Graves would approve of that sort of recitation.

Credence’s fingers trembled as he reached out towards the book. Had Mr. Graves forgotten this step? Would it be inappropriate to remind him? He didn’t want Mr. Graves to get in trouble with his dark master.

“Don’t touch that,” Mr. Graves said sharply.

Credence jerked away, twirling around to see Mr. Graves standing in the door, scowling fiercely. On the table Credence’s instructional books shuddered together into a tighter, neater pile.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t-didn’t mean,” Credence stammered, hands wrapping around his elbows. 

Mr. Graves closed his eyes a moment and when he opened them again, the anger on his face had left. He smiled gently and reached out his hand.

“I shouldn’t have spoken like that to you. I’m sorry. Come here to me.”

Credence felt a second’s hesitation but the comfort of Mr. Graves’s embrace called harder than his doubt. He went to him and felt every fear and doubt seep away as Mr. Graves caressed his neck and stroked his hair.

“You’re curious. I’m happy for that. I was only worried for you because that book contains dangerous, advanced magic. You’re very powerful but that means you could do things you can’t yet control.” Mr. Graves kissed his temple and met his eyes. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mr. Graves. I won’t touch it,” Credence said and felt adoration so powerful that it bordered on idolatry swell in him as Mr. Graves smiled at him.

“Good boy. Such a good boy.” Mr. Graves sighed, the sound a stroke up Credence’s spine. “You shouldn’t look at me like that. How are we going to get any work done when you keep looking at me like that?’

“I’m sorry,” Credence mumbled and lowered his eyes, blushing.

“Don’t apologize,” Large fingers lifted his chin up and then Mr. Graves caressed across his bottom lip again. Credence made a noise, a needy sound and Mr. Graves’s face darkened again, this time in a way that only served to heat Credence’s blood more.

“Perhaps we can combine our work with pleasure.” Mr. Graves leaned over, breathing hot against his neck as he began unbuttoning his shirt. “Tell me when Ilvermorny was founded.”

“In the seventeenth century. After 1620,” Credence said promptly and was rewarded with searching lips on his neck. Mr. Graves worked his shirt and undershirt off and pulled back.

“Ah, Credence.” Mr. Graves set his hand on the center of Credence’s chest, the warmth like a brand against his bare skin. “You should never wear clothes. Why waste time covering up all that’s mine to see?”

Credence let out a stuttered breath, embarrassment twinning with want in his head. If Mr. Graves wanted it, really wanted it, he would never wear a stitch of clothing again. He would crawl naked through glass for him. He would break whichever of the Lord’s laws were left for him to break and then come back to sit at Mr. Graves’s feet.

“Tell me what a Parseltongue is,” Mr. Graves asked, his hand sliding down Credence’s chest to rest on the top of his slacks.

“A witch that can speak to snakes,” Credence said, clenching his fingers into Mr. Graves’s shoulder. It made perfect sense. A snake was the Devil’s favorite guise. He only found it odd that all witches couldn’t commune with them. He wondered if it was only the domain of the Devil’s most favored followers. “Are you one?”

“No,” Mr. Graves said casually and then leaned his head down to bite at Credence’s collarbone, his hands dipping lower to pull open his slacks and slip inside. Credence moaned as Mr. Graves reached inside his boxers to touch at his rising flesh. He slipped his thumb in a rolling gesture over the head of Credence’s erection and then paused. “What’s an ingredient in Liquid Luck?”

“An Ashwinder egg,” Credence said and was rewarded with Mr. Graves’s hand stroking him again. He didn’t know what an Ashwinder was and at the moment he didn’t particularly care about its reproduction but he was happy that the name had been in his head when he’d needed it.

“My clever Credence,” Mr. Graves said warmly and begin moving backwards towards one of the plush armchairs in the library. He took Credence along with him by the hand on his cock and his other hand squeezing and pulling on his ass.

Mr. Graves sat down hard in the chair and pulled impatiently at Credence’s slacks. He slipped them off just as impatiently and moaned in eager delight when Mr. Graves pulled him onto his lap. Credence swallowed hard when Mr. Graves took his hand in his own and led it down his clothed chest to the thick bulge under his slacks. Mr. Graves returned his hand to Credence’s ass and moaned in approval when Credence began rubbing at his cock, the motions slight and hesitant.

“Clever, clever Credence.” Mr. Graves pushed his hand away and opened up his slacks, pulling his cock out through his boxers. Credence hadn’t really seen it the other night, in the darkness of the bedroom, but now his eyes widened at the sight. It seemed impossible that all that thick, throbbing flesh had been inside him but even now he felt a deep aching emptiness calling for it.

Again Mr. Graves murmured that word that made Credence’s thighs and his twitching, eager hole slick to the touch and Credence wrapped his hands around Mr. Graves’s shoulders. Mr. Graves lifted him up slightly and then paused, his cock teasing along Credence’s ass.

“Who has the Elder Wand?” Mr. Graves asked. His voice was tight and expectant.

“I-I don’t know,” Credence murmured, his mind going blissfully blank at the feel of Mr. Graves’s cock pressing into him.

“Gellert Grindelwald,” Mr. Graves said firmly and began working Credence down onto him. He wrapped one of his hands possessively around Credence’s back and pulled him chest to chest against him as he thrust up. Credence nearly sobbed in pleasure at the sensation. Mr. Graves felt bigger like this, so big that it bordered on pain but he wanted it, wanted every last inch. 

“He’s the world’s greatest wizard,” Mr. Graves continued and Credence tried to listen, tried to learn but it was so hard when all he wanted to do was bury his face in his shoulder and feel. Mr. Graves groaned into his ear and tightened his grip on Credence’s hip, pulling him into his lap again and again. “Oh my boy, he’ll love you.”

And Credence felt the last thin bit of his limited control snap as though Mr. Graves had said that he loved him and he tensed all over as he came, his cock rubbing against Mr. Graves’s silken-soft shirt.

Mr. Graves growled out in approval and set both of his hands to Credence’s ass, using his body roughly as he fucked up into him a few dozen more times before holding him completely still and spilling in him, warm and wicked and so, so wonderful.

“That was a good first lesson,” Mr. Graves said with a weary chuckle and then pulled Credence back enough to examine his shirt. “You’ve made quite the mess of me.”

“I’m so-,” Credence began and then interrupted himself to push forward again in order to recapture his full-body embrace. He slid his head down far enough that he could rest his temple on Mr. Graves’s shoulder and enjoyed the feel of him still inside, soft and sated now.

“Such a quick learner, Credence. And look, nothing’s broken or on fire. We’re making progress,” Mr. Graves stroked his neck and Credence didn’t care how much progress they actually made, so long as Mr. Graves always spoke to him like that, so long as he could always feel so happy. 

 

As much as Credence had loved the books, he found that he loved potions even more. There was something unbelievably satisfying about following instructions to the letter and ending up with exactly what he was supposed to have. It was simple and solid and real.

“That’s much better than any of my first attempts were in school,” Mr. Graves said as he examined Credence’s potion. He’d called it a Forgetfulness Potion and Credence had been happy to find that at least one of the ingredients was something he’d heard of before. Most of the other potions he’d read about in his book were so bizarre and unwieldy that Credence couldn’t imagine where people managed to get all the ingredients to make them.

“Testing it is always a bit tricky,” Mr. Graves said thoughtfully. “I can’t say I want to forget anything that’s happened today.”

Credence closed his eyes under Mr. Graves’s hand, rubbing gently along his neck. 

“We’ll save it for later,” Mr. Graves decided and slipped the potion into his pocket. “It’s good to be prepared for anything.”

And Credence nodded in agreement although he couldn’t imagine what use the two of them had for something that could induce short-term memory loss.

“Tomorrow we’ll start on charms. Get you used to your wand. And flying, of course.” Mr. Graves pursed his lips as he considered Credence. “You’re a bit old to be learning how to fly but we should get those basics down before we even think about Apparition.”

“I flew before…when I was that dark…thing.” Credence didn’t much like the idea of replicating the experience. But he did like the idea of using his wand, beautiful and untouched up in the bedroom.

“That was a very special circumstance.” Mr. Graves looked incredibly pleased for a moment and Credence lowered his head.

“I’m sorry that I tried to hurt you. I was angry,” Credence said. He was horrified at the idea that he might have really hurt Mr. Graves. He might have robbed himself and the world of the best man in it.

“You were right to be.” Mr. Graves enveloped him in his arms and Credence let his tension slip out like rainwater. Mr. Graves lowered his head down to his ear and whispered, “And you were magnificent.”

Credence froze, some of that tension sliding back inside. He’d been a monster, an uncontrollable animal, driven by anger and fear. Any pleasure he’d felt at the destruction he’d caused made his stomach twist in disgust.

“You took my breath away. Someday you’ll appreciate what a beautiful moment that was, my boy.” Mr. Graves smiled against his neck and Credence felt an odd spike of cold run through him. “I promise you that.” 

Credence hesitated but in the end there was only one real answer he could give, “Yes, Mr. Graves.”


	3. Thou Shalt Have No Other Gods Before Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This snowstorm might trap me inside for the rest of my life but it has meant that I can get this up faster than I originally intended. So, half yay?

“Isn’t this a fine way to start the morning?” Graves asked with a cheerful hum before he licked a long line back up Credence’s twitching, eager cock. It pulled a cry from him that was so fevered that Graves couldn’t stop the hand that slipped down under his loose sleeping pants to stroke at his own cock. Credence looked down at him with sleep-glazed eyes and twisted as he sucked once across his leaking tip. Graves grinned up at him. “Maybe one day you’ll wake up early enough to do this for me. I’d truly love that, my boy. Would you do that for me?”

“Yes,” Credence said in a gulping moan and Graves rewarded him by sucking him down inside his mouth.

What a lovely thought, waking up with his cock nestled down Credence’s warm throat. He ached at the thought of teaching him the proper way to suck a man’s cock, how to tease and stretch his pretty mouth just so and swallow down everything he was given like the gift it was. He’d learn quickly, no doubt, his clever Credence.

Of course he also needed to teach him more actual magic as well. Graves thought that he might be indulging himself a little too much but there had been too many clandestine meetings when he’d wanted to push that cringing creature against a wall and test how deeply devoted he actually was. And he’d held back because he wouldn’t sully himself by despoiling a clingy, pathetic Squib, no matter how clearly he wanted it.

But Credence was no Squib. He was his own powerful, delectable Obscurial. All his. Until he gave him to Grindelwald, of course, to use at his discretion and pleasure. But that was months away. Credence still had so much to learn.

Graves sucked on his cock and listened to him cry out, his lower lip bruised from trying to bite away the sounds. Graves slipped his fingers between the cheeks of his clenching ass and found his little hole, still tender from his attentions the other day. Credence moaned eagerly anyway, pressing down against his questing fingers. He would be happy to come like this, Graves thought, with Credence clenching around his fingers like a sweet whore while he sucked his cock and stroked his own.

He would almost be happy. He’d meant to give Credence a bit of a break but he found as he slipped his fingers inside his tight, grasping, greedy hole that he wanted too badly to replace them with his swollen prick.

Graves waited until Credence’s cries were pressing close together in a desperate stream and then he pulled his mouth away, slipped his fingers out of his hungry body, and stood up from the bed. He stretched up contentedly, knowing that his erection was pushing against his soft linen pants. 

Credence lay still on the bed for a moment in shock and then he rose up on his sharp elbows. His eyes were so dark that they seemed bottomless and when he licked his mouth, Graves wanted to press his cock right between those lips and start those lessons now. But he had other plans.

“Let’s take a shower. Save some time this morning getting ready,” Graves said casually and Credence paused before nodding, his face uncertain and compelling because of it. 

Graves pulled Credence off of the bed and patted the small of his back when he just stood there, trembling all over. He finally did move, peering back at Graves with that uncertain face, and Graves followed him, whistling a merry tune.

What a fine, fine way to start a morning.

 

“You’re such a good, obedient boy.” Graves pulled Credence’s head back by his hair and bit sharply where his trembling throat met his collarbone. Credence’s moan was ecstasy mixed with desperation and Graves watched with interest as his steadying hands on the marble wall of the shower began sinking into the surface like it was butter.

A fascinating discovery. Rage was Credence’s greatest motivation but it was also unpredictable and likely uncontrollable. Graves didn’t care to cultivate that suppressed rage lurking in him, as wild and compelling as it made him. But pain apparently motivated him more than pleasure. Graves could work with that and still keep his soft, fragile trust intact. 

“What if I told you not to come? Hmmm?” Graves thrust up once, twice, rocking Credence up onto the balls of his feet. He was like a vise around him like this, so aroused that it bordered on agony, and it made Graves so hard that it was difficult to keep his mind on his experiment.

“W-what?” Credence gasped out, one of his hands reaching out for the back of his neck, clutching at it tightly as he rode out his rough thrusts. The twin of that needy hand just kept digging deeper and deeper into the marble, even as parts of the wall crumbled down to the bottom of the shower.

Graves licked and then bit at his ear. “Don’t come. Not yet. Not until I decide.”

The marble cracked suddenly, huge spidery lines bleeding up in every direction. Outside the shower Graves could hear the sharp shatter of glass breaking over the sink and when he turned his head to watch Credence’s performance, the brass tub beside them buckled and melted over the floor.

“Not yet,” Graves whispered, digging his hands into his hips as he pushed faster into him.

Credence was near sobbing, confused and in exquisite pain, and he could completely destroy the home that Graves’s grandfather had built and Graves had never been so aroused, had never wanted anyone as much as his deadly, needy Obscurial.

“Don’t come,” Graves ordered against Credence’s frantic, pleading moans and then came harder than he ever had in his entire life.

 

“When you finish up your reading for this morning, we’ll start on basic charms so don’t forget to take your wand with you. And keep your hands off of this sweet wand.” Graves gently stroked once up Credence’s leaking erection and Credence looked as though he was going to collapse on the spot, naked and shaking in the wreckage of the bathroom. “You have experience with that, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, Mr. Graves.” And even though Credence was at his most bewitching when he was brimming over with power, he was also lovely when he was suffering. Graves couldn’t stop himself from pulling Credence into a tight hug, from kissing his shoulder and listening to his guttural, panicked cry.

Graves pulled back and examined the fragments of his bathroom. “You’ve made such a mess. But don’t worry, we’re going to work on teaching you control today.”

“Is that why I can’t…,” Credence paused, blushing right to the tips of his ears. Graves wanted to pull him close once again, maybe kiss those red ears but he thought that he should be kind.

“Exactly,” Graves said and waved his wand up in a decisive swoop. The room began reassembling itself, struggling in parts to remember how it had fit together before Credence had changed its basic properties. Graves smiled at him tolerantly as Credence watched him work. “Such a clever boy. Now go. You and I have work to do.”

Watching Credence leave the room, aroused to the point of tears in his dark eyes, was an image that Graves would cherish for the rest of his life, although not as much as the sight of him on the other side of those broken walls all those nights ago, cold and furious and strangely beautiful.

 

He worked in his grandmother’s office for the rest of the morning, assembling together all the newspapers he could gather and trying to figure out where Grindelwald was and what he was doing. He lingered over the articles written about his escape and smiled smugly at his picture. The picture smiled back at him, equally smug and likely just as pleased that none of the articles contained a mention of Credence. They didn’t know that he’d helped him escape. They still thought that he was dead. That would make him doubly valuable to Grindelwald.

Graves ran his thumb over the charm Grindelwald had given him just a few weeks after they’d met. He’d fully intended to arrest the infamous wizard when Grindelwald had first approached him but something in his manner, in his calm and charm, had made Graves hesitate. He’d listened to him speak about the foolishness of the International Statute of Secrecy, about the resources it wasted and the lives it endangered, all for the purpose of what? The humans only posed a threat when wizards weren’t allowed to use the full extent of their powers.

Credence was proof of that. He never should have ended up in that No-Maj fanatic’s home and the fact that talented, passionate Tina Goldstein had been stripped of her rank for using her magic on that filth was a shame that Graves didn’t think he would ever overcome. He’d fought to let her keep her position but Madame President had insisted and the day he’d had to send her downstairs, knowing her worth, was the day he’d fully committed to his plan. Goldstein had even shown him the path to follow, inadvertently leading him to Credence. He only hoped that someday she and all the other misguided wizards of the world would understand that there was only one sure way to peace.

The No-Maj had to learn their proper place.

“We’ll make it happen,” Graves murmured, rubbing the charm. He would be so happy to stand next to Grindelwald in that new world, knowing that future generations would recognize them for the heroes they were.

He studied the papers until it was time for lunch and then he wandered down to the dining room. Credence was already there, the last of his books gently floating back up towards the library. His eyes were wide in his wan face as Graves entered the room and they pulled him over as sure as any spell.

“Done already? I hope you didn’t rush.” Graves cupped Credence’s cheek in his hand and watched as he pressed eagerly against him. Graves wondered how long it had taken him to settle the ache in his body and how quickly he could wake it up again. 

As Graves pondered that delicious question, he watched the nervous way that Credence worried his lips before he answered him and he realized that he’d never kissed him, not properly.

“No, it was…really interesting,” Credence said and licked his lips again, breathing out a short, huffed breath.

“How nice,” Graves said and kissed him, kissed his trembling lips until Credence was shaking against him, kissed him until the table started to rumble under them. Then he pulled back, running his thumb over his soft mouth, and sat down beside him. “Now, time to eat. I’m starving.”

 

“It’s a simple levitation spell, very easy. It’s probably the first thing young wizards learn to do with their wands. Watch me.” Graves lifted his wand and gestured fluidly towards the feather on the table. “ _Wingardium Leviosa_.” 

The feather rose a few feet up and then settled back down into its original position.

Credence looked doubtful as he stared at his wand, his shoulders hunched inward. Graves wondered how he could have so little confidence in his abilities after everything that he’d already done but he supposed that it was helpful in its own way. An insecure Credence had to have external validation. He could give him that.

“Don’t look so worried,” Graves scolded and drew close to him. He pulled Credence’s back against his chest and caressed down his wand arm until he reached his fingers, clasped loosely around the slender wand. Credence closed his eyes and shuddered as Graves rubbed his index finger but obediently changed his grip.

Once he had him pressed up against him, Graves couldn’t help but slide his other hand down, down into Credence’s loose slacks to see how he was doing.

“Oh, no, don’t,” Credence whined, squirming around his touch.

“Have I been cruel to you?” Graves asked, stroking him with light, teasing movements. “Or have I given you exactly what you need? Do the spell correctly and I’ll let you come.”

“Yes,” Credence said in a reverent whisper. He let Graves lead his hand up and move it through the slight motion. “ _Wingardium Leviosa_.”

He sounded a bit shaky and the feather seemed to vibrate a moment before it rose but Graves thought that he’d earned his reward anyway. He pressed his lips to the warm skin of Credence’s neck and began stroking him properly until Credence’s back tightened up against his chest.

“That’s it, that’s good. Now come.” Graves clutched Credence to his chest as he came, hard and sobbing through an orgasm that had to be half-agony.

And for a split second Graves was too busy watching Credence come undone against him to see what was happening around them. When he noticed, he clutched Credence tighter and shook him until his exhausted eyes opened. “Look. Look at what you’ve done.”

Credence did look and then gasped. The two of them watched as every object in the room continuing rising until they met the feather, brushing lightly against the high ceiling of the training room. The table floated around the feather as though it missed it and eventually settled on the ceiling, holding still for the feather to set itself back on the surface. The other objects neatly arranged themselves where they’d been opposite on the floor.

“I did that?” Credence sounded awed and Graves agreed.

“Soon there will be almost nothing you can’t do,” Graves murmured in his ear and held him even tighter, so tight that the breath caught in his chest. “My own sweet boy.” 

 

“What makes a broom fly?” Credence asked, eying his broomstick with a gaze that seemed critical.

“Magic,” Graves said with a laugh and Credence lowered his head, clearly embarrassed.

“What sort of magic?” He caressed the long shaft absently and Graves felt the laughter freeze in his throat in his sudden desire. “Ma said that witches stole babies for their blood to make their brooms fly. She said everyone knew that.”

“Do I look like I steal babies?” Graves furrowed his brow at Credence, his arousal effectively doused. “Your mother is dead, boy, and she was a fool besides. Broomsticks are just a tool, like cauldrons or wands. You are what’s magical, not them.”

Credence looked pained at Graves’s sharp tone and he swallowed down his irritation. He had to remind himself that Mary Lou Barebone had cast a wide shadow over Credence and he wasn’t going to shed that in just a few days.

But it was still aggravating. The only person Credence should be looking to for wisdom was him. The only person he should be looking to period was him. He refused to compete with a damned No-Maj harridan ghost.

“Let me show you,” he said and reached his hand out towards his own broom. It flew instantly to him and he mounted it in one smooth gesture. Nostalgia made him smile a bit. Living in the city, he rarely used a broom anymore. Apparating was much easier, if not as much fun. He nodded to him. “Now you.”

Credence got on his broom with significantly less grace but it rose just fine under him. His fingers were white-knuckled around it as it came up to the height Graves was floating at. He looked sick and he was only a few feet off the ground.

“I don’t like this,” Credence mumbled, shifting around on the broom.

“Nonsense. It’s fun. If we had more people, I could teach you how to play Quodpot. I was always good at that in school.” He was being modest really. He’d been excellent at Quodpot, if a little too enthusiastic about trapping his opponents with the ball right before it exploded.

Credence looked doubtful about the whole idea of playing any sort of game on a broom and Graves sighed in disappointment. He supposed he couldn’t be a natural at every sort of magic but Graves thought that he could try a little harder. 

“We’ll work on it later. Obviously you can handle the basics.” Graves let his broom lower back down to the floor and Credence followed gratefully.

Supper was waiting for them in a tidy basket on the training room floor, the only thing that Credence hadn’t magicked up to the ceiling. Graves didn’t think his grandfather would have approved of eating anywhere but at the dining room table but it was his house now and he liked the idea of sitting relaxed for little bit on the floor, eating a simple sandwich.

“My father got me that broom for my sixteenth birthday. It was pretty top-of-the-line then but I’m sure children have much flashier ones now.” Graves took a healthy bite out of his sandwich and had a random thought as he chewed. “When is your birthday, my boy? How old are you anyway?”

Goldstein’s reports had been vague on that point, although she had noted with some frustration that Credence and Chastity were old enough that they didn’t have to stay with their mother, unlike the younger sister.

“Twenty-four,” Credence said absently, staring at the broom. “My birthday is next week. Ma said that the Devil watches winter babies more closely.”

“Drivel,” Graves said, scowling. “I don’t want to hear you talk about your damned mother anymore.”

“Sorry,” Credence said, his eyes lowering to the ground in contrition.

“Nevermind that.” Graves waved his hand impatiently. “What do you want for your birthday?”

He was sure whatever it could possibly be was probably lying around somewhere in the house, probably up in the cavernous attic. His cousins had always been so careless with their things. 

“Ma said,” Credence started and then froze, swallowing hard. “I mean, I don’t need a present.”

“You do if I want to give you one. What do you want?” Graves felt that spark of irritation flare in him once again. He half-wished he could bring Credence’s mother back from the dead so that he could kill her again for being such an impossible figure to fully supplant. 

“I wonder if…” Credence stared at his sandwich and then pushed on. “Can I see my sister again?”

If Credence had asked him for a thunderbird, Graves wouldn’t have been as surprised. He set his own sandwich down on a napkin and turned his attention fully on Credence, who seemed to fold in on himself.

“Your sister? The little No-Maj girl?” Graves felt baffled. “She’s not really your sister, Credence. She’s nothing.”

Credence glanced up at that and Graves was shocked to see the flint of defiance on his face, similar to what he’d seen that day when Credence had fully let go. It made his pulse race to see it but it also made him reach down into his pocket, to where a small bottle had been sitting ever since the other day.

“She’s not nothing,” Credence said firmly. “I scared her and I want to know if she’s okay.”

“I’m sure she was obliviated along with all the other No-Maj in the city. She’s probably back with her original family,” Graves said casually, even as he popped the lid off the small bottle.

“She can’t go back. Her parents don’t have enough money to feed all of them.” Credence moved closer to Graves and actually put his hand on his knee, pleading. “Can she come here? I’ll take care of her. She’s mostly quiet and she won’t bother you.”

“My boy,” Graves said, forcing a broad smile on his face. “A No-Maj child has no place in a wizard’s home. Or in a wizard’s life. Forget her.”

Credence seemed to consider that for a time. When he spoke his voice was cold and dangerous, “Like you would have forgotten me? When you thought that I was nothing?”

“No, that was my mistake. I’ve paid for that.” Graves surreptitiously tipped the contents of the bottle into a mug of dark beer and then held it out to him. “You’re getting worked up over nothing. You should have a drink. It’ll relax you. You don’t want to lose control, do you?”

“I don’t know,” Credence said. His voice was distant as he stared at the mug in Graves’s hand. Suddenly all the objects which had been happily settled on the ceiling crashed violently down. Credence didn’t even blink.

“You’re going to hurt yourself.” Graves pushed the mug into Credence’s hand. “Or me. I don’t like the idea of either of those. Drink that. Please.”

He put his hand over Credence’s hand, which was still on his knee but was by this point digging in painfully. He worked Credence’s fingers loose and then brought his hand up to his lips. 

“Please,” he said again. “I was wrong. I’ll do anything you want. The girl can come here. Just drink that and calm down.”

Credence brought the mug up to his mouth and hesitated, so long that Graves was contemplating if he would be able to hold him down long enough to make him drink before Credence could tear him apart, but eventually he swallowed it down.

His eyes went immediately hazy and he swayed slightly. Graves caught him and took the mug out of his hand. He pulled him up until he was nearly in his lap and held him in a relaxed embrace.

“Mr. Graves?” Credence murmured after a few minutes, stirring in his arms.

“Are you finally awake, my boy?” Graves kissed his temple. “I thought you would sleep all afternoon.”

“I was asleep? I don’t remember…were we going to learn to use broomsticks next?” Credence looked baffled and the look charmed Graves even as he searched his face carefully for a hint of deception. He didn't think it likely that Credence would lie to him but he had to make sure.

“I think your levitation spell took a little too much out of you. Although we need to work some more on getting things back down as neatly as they went up.” Graves chuckled and gestured the mess of objects on the floor.

“I did that?” Credence pressed his hot cheek to Grave’s shoulder and shivered. “I’m sorry.”

“No harm done.” Graves rubbed his arm gently and smiled. “No harm at all. But let’s leave the brooms for another day. I think you might enjoy a little more potion-training instead.”

Credence looked pleased and Graves felt the last of his tension drain out. A twinge of regret took its place but he pushed it away. He hadn’t taken any special memory away from Credence, just a load of rot and disappointment. A bit of him did already miss the burgeoning steel he’d seen in him again when he’d been angry but this was for the best.

A happy Credence was a much more manageable, serviceable creature. He would have to do something nice for him next week, although he’d be careful not to talk about birthdays again. Best to avoid any talk that might remind him of his dratted little No-Maj sister. It was a pity she hadn’t been standing with Credence’s other sister when he’d brought the whole house down. Thinking back on it, that might have saved them both a lot of trouble. He would have known then that Credence was his Obscurial and he never would have rejected him in the first place. So much strife could have been avoided. He pondered the thought for a bit and then dismissed it. Nothing to be done for it now.

“Let’s get back to work,” Graves said and kissed him. It was a type of work, he thought, even as he pushed Credence down onto the training room floor. His experiments in control were much more successful when his own pleasure was involved. And right now, with his blood humming in desire from the close call he’d had, he was suddenly very keen on satisfying his own pleasure.


	4. The Highway of the Upright Is to Depart from Evil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time flies when you're enjoying the worst winter in decades. I urge you all to imagine the Grindelwald in this story as whoever makes you the happiest. Personally I imagine a slightly younger Christoph Waltz but I've heard people offer up Mads Mikkelsen, Jude Law, Alexander Skarsgård, Daniel Brühl, etc. Hell, picture Johnny Depp if that does it for you, it's your brain.

Credence breathed out slowly and hollowed in his cheeks as he sucked on the thick flesh in his mouth. Above him Percival let out an approving groan and Credence sucked harder, so pleased that his fingers pressing against his own hardening erection barely felt as good. 

He’d worked hard over the past few months to learn how to do this right, just as hard as he’d worked on learning magic and learning how to control the power inside of him. He loved the magic but he felt most proud of this, of making the man who’d made this all possible for him feel even a little bit as good as he did every single day.

“That’s perfect, that’s…” Percival trailed off, reaching down to slip his fingers through Credence’s hair until it stopped just at the nape of his neck. Credence thought that the longer hair felt strange but he couldn’t deny that it looked better and Percival liked touching it. That was more than enough for him.

Credence pulled off of Percival’s cock with some reluctance, licking his lips a moment to wet them again. Percival growled playfully down to him and pulled him up his broad body by his hair. His reward for the slight pain was a deep, searching kiss and Percival’s hand around him, stroking lightly.

“Is this all because of me?” Percival said, squeezing his cock. He moved his big hands to wrap around Credence’s hips and pulled, rising up slightly.

Credence put his hands against Percival’s chest and pushed him back down onto his back before spreading his thighs wider around his lap. Percival gripped his hip so hard that it hurt but he was grinning, wide and appreciative. 

“I can do it. Please,” Credence said. He reached back and took Percival back into his hand, lining him up just right. He murmured the spell he thought he could do half asleep and began sinking down with a shuddered gasp. 

This was his least favorite sexual position—too exposed, too distant—but Percival loved it. He loved watching Credence bounce up and down his lap, growing more and more flushed with the pressure and heat until he could barely hold himself up anymore. Only then would Percival consent to taking an active part, holding him in place and thrusting up until they both came.

It was his least favorite way of making love but Credence wanted to make Percival very happy today. He was going to ask him for a big favor, one he knew he should have asked a long time ago.

He was going to ask him if his sister could come and live with them. 

Credence knew that he was a terrible brother. He’d been living a life of absolute bliss, sheltered and cared for and treasured, all while his little sister suffered. He should have checked on her the first week he’d come to live with Percival but somehow he’d never gotten around to it and now it’d been five months. Who even knew how she was now?

So he was going to take care of her because she was his little sister and he’d promised to protect her. He was certain that Percival wouldn’t mind but just in case he was going to be even better than good for him all day.

Starting with this.

“Ah,” Credence gasped as he slid down too fast and he paused, digging his fingers into Percival’s chest. It was too much all at once. Even after so many months of taking Percival so eagerly into his body, the size and shape of him still took his breath away.

“Don’t stop,” Percival said and thrust up once.

“I need—oh, please, just a minute—I can’t.” Credence panted but began rising up on Percival’s thick cock and then down again, more slowly this time.

“Yes, you can, my boy. You can do anything.” Percival sounded so fond that it hit Credence harder than the pleasure sizzling up his body. 

“I love you,” Credence whispered. The words were more heart-felt than any prayer he’d ever mumbled on his knees in the dark.

Percival stroked his hip and nodded. “Such a good boy to say that to me. I’d do anything for you, you know?”

“Yes,” Credence said and swallowed down his gulping moans as he tried to move harder. His legs already felt like liquid and what he really wanted were Percival’s strong, comforting arms around him, but he was going to do this right. He needed to do this right. He crooked his hips on one slide down, squeezing, and Percival actually shuddered under him. Credence shuddered with him. “Was-was that good?”

Percival closed his eyes tight for a second and when they opened again, they were dark and hungry and Credence knew what was going to happen but he still gasped when Percival grabbed his arms and flipped him down onto bed. 

“So much better than good,” Percival said. His voice was rough and nearly harsh as he thrust into him, over and over and over until the warm coil of magic that was always resting inside of Credence now began to rise up in him. Credence bit his lip hard, pushing it back even as he threw his arms around Percival’s shoulders and met his thrusts. Percival frowned, reaching for his chin, and he ran his thumb over his lip. “None of that. You know better. Let me see what pretty thing you can do this time.”

“Oh.” Credence craned his neck back, a guilty flush running down from him face as he tried to mold the magic into something useful while rolling, aching sparks ran through his body. He did know better. He gripped Percival’s shoulders hard and didn’t ask because he was going to be so good today but he didn’t have to ask. Percival, as always, knew everything without him having to say a word.

“You can come,” Percival murmured as he sank down, weighing Credence’s body into the mattress even as he continued moving in him. Credence tried to suck in some air, tried to get his thoughts back into order but when the hard muscles of Percival’s stomach rubbed up against his aching cock, he couldn’t do anything but stretch long under him and come.

As he did the vase on the nightstand shimmered and rippled until it transformed into an antique lamp, bright and cheery in the dark room. Percival lifted his head up to watch the wordless, wandless transformation spell and he thrust into Credence one last time before pressing hard into him, groaning loudly into his ear.

“Beautiful boy, how wonderful,” Percival said against Credence’s cheek in the aftermath. “I always hated that damn vase.”

 

Percival kissed him on the cheek and swatted him playfully on the ass when they parted that morning; Percival to his grand office to work and Credence to his studies. Credence was going to ask for his favor after lunch, after Percival had taken care of his many pressing responsibilities and was ready to teach Credence something new. He was always in his best mood then.

Credence paused by the Graves family vault and peered in surprise at the empty picture frame over the door. Great-great-great-grandfather Graves almost never spoke to him—Credence got the feeling that no matter how long he tried to make himself presentable, he would always look like the disheveled orphan he was in front of a fine man like Gondulphus Graves—but he never left his picture.

(The moving pictures were among his favorite bits of magic. Percival had shown him how to enchant his own picture and although the too-thin boy looking at him never seemed particularly happy, Credence loved to watch him shuffle around.)

“Mr. Graves?” Credence stared down the hallway to the other pictures but the other members of the Graves family just politely indicated to him that they certainly couldn’t be called upon to speculate on their ancestor’s whereabouts. Credence blushed in sudden embarrassment and moved on before one of them began to suspect that he was thinking of breaking into their vault.

Most mornings Credence began with potion-work. It helped him focus and Percival encouraged it, so much so that he had an entire cabinet full of little bright potions. His favorite to make was still his first, pretty Forgetfulness potions that bubbled gently and glowed in their bottles. Credence peered at them through the cabinet doors. He had thought that he had more of them but it was possible that he had emptied some out to make room for other potions and didn’t remember. Credence smiled slightly to himself at the idea of forgetting about a Forgetfulness potion.

It was no matter. He could make more. Credence rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, slipped on an apron to protect it, and went to work.

The hours flew by without him even noticing and when he was done, he had two new Forgetfulness potions to add to his collection, a Wiggenweld potion, and a Draught of Peace. He had a special fondness for that one as well, since it was the only one that Percival thought was safe enough for him to drink. He didn’t really need its calming properties, not anymore, but it had been useful when he’d been learning how to fly on a broom. And he was very proud that he could make it correctly since Percival had told him that he’d never managed to get the knack of the stuff.

A chime filled the room as the family clock announced to the entire house that it was lunchtime. Credence looked up and swallowed. He didn’t know why he felt so nervous about asking Percival to let his sister live with them. Percival always said how important family was (although he was talking about his own in those situations) and he said that Credence could ask him for anything (which he never did because he already had everything he could ever possibly want).

Credence wrapped his fingers around the simmering blue potion on the table and brought it up to his lips. He would ask because it was the right thing to do and because even though he only ever needed Percival to be completely happy, he did miss talking to his sister so much that it sometimes hurt like a physical ache in his chest.

Credence drank the potion and went upstairs for lunch.

 

“Credence.” Something was tickling his neck. Credence blearily tried to stop whatever it was and heard a familiar chuckle. “Wake up, my boy. I have exciting news for you.”

Credence forced his oddly-heavy eyelids up to find that he was in one of the plush chairs in the library, a book sitting resentfully at his feet. Percival was standing in front of him and running the edge of his wand down Credence’s neck and towards to his collarbone.

“What—how did I get here?” Credence asked. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth.

Percival’s brows bunched together in confusion and he laughed again, putting his wand away. “You walked here, darling. Unless you apparated without me supervising, which you know you shouldn’t do. You came here after lunch to read so I could finish up some of my work. At least you said you wanted to read.”

The last bit was said with a pointed nod down. The book on the ground flipped some of its pages in silent fury and Credence leaned over to pick it up, gently closing it and putting it on the table beside him. He didn’t even remember eating lunch but he had clearly been sleeping hard, so hard that he still felt dazed and half-asleep. Credence stroked the spine of the book in apology until it settled.

“Oh.” Credence yawned wide. This wasn’t the first time that he’d fallen into a deep sleep during the day after his studies. He’d never been allowed such a slothful activity as napping when he’d lived with his mother so even though Percival always told him that it was fine, he still felt a familiar twinge of heavy guilt race through him. “Sorry.”

“You’ve been working hard these past few months, Credence. You deserved an afternoon off.” Percival reached out and ran his fingers through Credence’s hair until he came back down to his chin. “And your hard work will pay off. Grindelweld has agreed to meet with us.”

Credence blinked hard. There was something rattling around in his sleep-addled head, something that felt important, but Percival’s news pushed it out. “That’s good.”

“Mmmm, it’s fantastic.” Percival reached out and pulled Credence out of the chair and into his arms. Credence pressed his forehead down against his shoulder and tried to ignore the little sliver of something—jealousy, worry—that he always felt whenever he heard that reverent tone in Percival’s voice concerning Gellert Grindelweld. 

Percival had told him to ignore mostly anything he read about Grindelwald because the wizarding community didn’t yet recognize the righteousness of his cause. Credence didn’t entirely understand his cause himself but Percival assured him that it was the only certain way to protect the future of their kind and Credence liked being counted in the same group as Percival. Certainly the other wizards he’d met didn’t want him around—except for kind Tina Goldstein and that funny man he’d met in the train station—but Percival told him that once the non-magical people knew that magic was real, the wizarding world would have no reason not to welcome him with open arms. 

“We should go tidy up a bit.” Percival kissed his temple and nuzzled at him briefly. “I want Grindelwald to see what a fine, lovely creature you are.”

Credence shivered in his arms at the compliment but also at the stab of worry in his stomach. “He’s coming here today?”

“Tonight. He’ll be joining us for supper.” Percival pulled away and studied Credence’s face for a moment before grinning in that charming, mischievous way he had. “In a manner of speaking. You’ll see. Now let’s go freshen up.”

Freshening up turned out to be making love in the shower, with Credence trembling all over as he wrapped his legs around Percival’s waist, his back pressed against the cool tile. He moaned up towards the shower head, his fuzzy brain almost preventing him keeping the cold water warm with his magic as Percival had requested.

“He’ll think that you’re extraordinary,” Percival said into his ear as they panted in the large shower stall, steam rising up around them like a caress. 

Credence nodded because what else could he possibly do but deep down he realized that he didn’t care if Gellert Grindelwald found him extraordinary. If Percival did, that was all that mattered and he hoped so much that he did.

After tonight, when Percival was still feeling so proud of his accomplishments, he would ask him if his sister could live with them. He felt terrible that he never had before. Once she was there they could truly be a family forever. 

 

“We never eat in here,” Credence said, feeling shy as Percival led him into the grand dining hall. He’d only been in there a few times before but he was surprised to see that the family portraits that usually adorned the walls were covered up. He wanted to ask why but the question seemed impossibly forward. It was none of his business.

“It’s far too formal for just the two of us,” Percival said, pulling him to a stop by the long table in order to straighten his tie once again. Percival looked him over critically, raking his fingers through his hair a few times and smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles on the beautiful suit he’d given him. Credence had never worn anything that fit him so well. Finally Percival nodded, seemingly to himself and stepped back. “You look wonderful. Grindelwald takes great stock in appearances but I know he’ll be pleased by yours.”

Credence’s cheeks burned at the idea that a virtual stranger would be judging his appearance. He trusted Percival’s word implicitly but he’d lived with his body and face for over twenty years and only one person had ever been pleased by them. What if Percival was blinded by his charitable fondness towards him? He didn’t really care if Grindelwald liked him for his own sake but Percival obviously did and he wanted him to be happy. 

“Dear boy,” Percival murmured, cupping his warm cheek. “Don’t worry yourself so much. Once you show him your magic, he’ll think you’re every bit as perfect as I do.”

Suddenly a great burst of flames erupted in the enormous fireplace near the head of the table and Percival pulled away once again. Credence followed him over to the head of table and ducked his head when Percival pulled his chair out for him. Percival took the opposite seat and folded his hands neatly on top of the table before looking over to the fireplace.

“We’re here, sir.” 

The flames twisted and licked their way up further inside the fireplace until they were as tall as a man and then as Credence watched with wide eyes, they began twining together until they formed the shape of a person. 

The figure was hard to make out at first but as they watched, the flames slipped closer and cleaner together until the figure was clearly a man, his features the bright red and orange of flames but still entirely distinguishable. 

“Ah, Auror Graves, how wonderful to see you again,” the man in the fireplace said, his voice echoing up the shaft.

“I imagine they’ve stripped me of that title by now,” Percival said, that odd amused smile he sometimes had back on his face. “Sir, I want you to meet the oldest living Obscurial in history, Credence Barebone. Credence, this is world’s most powerful wizard, Gellert Grindelwald.”

“You flatter me, Mr. Graves, and so sincerely,” Grindelwald smiled, his lips sparking flame inside a face that Credence distantly supposed was handsome. He didn’t think that he was as handsome as Percival, but he had high cheekbones and an aristocratic nose in a youthful face. His eyes were impossible cores of white-hot flame as he looked at Credence. “So this is the boy you worked so hard to find.”

“In the end, he found me.” Percival reached across the table and squeezed one of Credence’s hands lightly. Credence’s skin tingled with loss when he let go. “His progress has been incredible, sir. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“So you can control your power now, Mr. Barebone?” Grindelwald asked, still looking him over thoroughly.

Credence lowered his head, swallowing down his nervousness. He wished he’d made a Draught of Peace today so that he could have taken it before this meeting. He hesitated a bit too long and Percival reached out again, dropping his big hand on top of his.

“Answer him, Credence. Don’t be afraid.”

“I think I can, sir,” Credence said, unable to look at anything other than Percival’s hand on his as he spoke. “My spells work most of the time and I…I haven’t broken anything in weeks.”

“Practically months.” Percival pulled back and rolled his shoulders in a casual way against his chair. “His Obscurus is still there, deep down, but he can control it and use its power.”

“That is quite the feat.” Grindelwald paused and the flames twisted in front of his face for a moment. “I have long had an interest in Obscurials, Mr. Barebone. What do you know about them?”

“I-not much, sir. I know that they’re young witches and wizards who...tried not to use their magic.” Credence didn’t like talking about this. Reminders about what exactly he was made him think of that night when he’d first realized that he did have power, when he’d killed his mother and rode the wind like a storm, wild and unrepentant. That part of him was frightening. 

“Young witches and wizards who were _kept_ from using their magic,” Grindelwald corrected softly. “Through fear, abuse, and lies. From the Muggles. They have their place in this world, Mr. Barebone, but surely you can agree that it shouldn’t be with their boots to the necks of children, preventing them from using their God-given power?”

Credence jerked in surprise at this mention of God. He’d waited for weeks for Percival to reveal the unholy machinations that governed witches and wizards until finally he’d begun to wonder if they weren’t products of damnation after all, if their power came elsewhere. Percival didn’t like talking about religion so he’d stopped bringing it up but the questions never left his mind. He was prepared for his damnation if it was required but he wanted to know the rules around it.

“God, sir?” Credence asked. Across the table Percival watched him, his entwined hands raising up nearly to his mouth.

“ _Having then gifts differing according to the grace that is given to us, whether prophecy, let us prophesy according to the proportion of faith_ ,” Grindelwald said in a solemn voice.

“Romans 12:6,” Credence said automatically, the memory of his mother’s switch a ward against forgetting a verse of the holy scripture.

“We are all what we have been made and must use the gifts we’ve been given. Witches and wizards must use their power to their fullest extent and the Muggles must understand their place in our world instead of us hiding our light in the darkness.” Grindelwald paused again and Credence found his gaze caught in those white, burning eyes. “Do you understand, Mr. Barebone?”

“Yes,” Credence said, his breath pouring out of him. He did understand. He understood so well. 

The Devil could and would quote scripture, as his mother had warned him many times. Percival had finally brought him to his true master and now he was going to learn the price he had to pay to stay by his side.

Credence wrapped his fingers around the beautiful wand that Percival had given him so many months ago and licked his lips in nervous anticipation. Anything would be worth it so long as he could be with Percival.

“What do you want me to do, sir?”


End file.
